


if all else fails

by shineyma



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, F/M, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 08:21:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11824779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shineyma/pseuds/shineyma
Summary: Grant can honestly say he was not expecting this.





	if all else fails

**Author's Note:**

> For JD, who had an unexpectedly long day. <3 <3 I wanted to have it up before you got home, but they wouldn't stop TALKING. The worst.

“Sir,” Grant’s assistant says, “your wife is downstairs.”

Hip-deep in one of Ortilla’s headache-inducing mission reports (this one is fifteen pages, peppered liberally with Spanish, and—so far—contains three digressions into all the reasons he should never have to work with Tamble again), Grant doesn’t quite process the words. “My what?”

“Your _wife_ ,” Evie repeats, a little sharply.

It still takes a second to process (he’s just reached a fourth digression, this one digressing even further into a surprisingly well-reasoned plea for a grenade launcher), but once it does, Grant’s up and around his desk in a second flat.

“Who brought her in?”

“She wasn’t captured,” Evie says, falling into step behind him as he heads for the elevators. “She just showed up in the lobby and demanded to see you.”

Grant falters, then picks up the pace. “Is she hurt?”

“No,” she says. “And she’s also not alone. One of your other VIPs is with her—the hacker.”

“Huh.” He turns that over in his head, considering the angles. Anyone else, he’d think that this was some ridiculous trap—that Coulson’s tired of playing games, has snapped and decided to take the fight to him, using Jemma as bait so Grant’ll let an assassin walk right in—but Skye?

He’s seen footage from the last time one of his strike teams encountered her in the field, so he knows she’s been training with May. That means she might— _might_ —have it in her to take a life now…but _his_ life? The life of a man she knows? A man her best friend is _married_ to?

No way.

“Where are they?” he asks.

“Ben’s office,” she says. “Do you want me to…?”

She trails off, inviting him to give her an idea of how he plans to deal with this. Too bad he doesn’t know yet.

“Go back to whatever you were doing,” he orders. “I’ll let you know.”

For his convenience, there’s always an elevator open on this floor. Usually it’s just a nice bonus, one of the perks of being in charge, but today it’s a fucking godsend. There’s an itch beneath his skin to _move_ , to get to Jemma _immediately_ , and standing around waiting for an elevator would’ve been unbearable.

As it is, the descent seems to take forever.

It’s been almost a full year since he last saw his wife. She was furious with him, pissed about the uprising and his betrayal of the team—every word dripping disdain, cold enough to give him frostbite. He wanted to talk things out with her, explain himself, but there were fires to be put out and his position needed to be secured, so he left her with John and promised to be back soon.

Then John lost his fucking mind and SHIELD took Cybertek, and by the time Grant got there Jemma was gone, swept away to be hidden where he’d never find her.

Now she’s here. She walked in under her own power and asked to see him.

He wants answers nearly as badly as he wants to hold her.

Of course, in light of the way she was talking the last time he saw her, he’s figuring on getting the former _long_ before the latter…so it’s a hell of a surprise when she throws herself at him the second he sets foot in Markham’s office.

Not that he’s complaining.

“Hey, baby,” he says, hugging her close. (Skye, slumped petulantly on the couch against the wall, fakes a gag.) “What brings you here?”

She shifts to look up at him, but makes no attempt to leave his arms—a nice bit of reassurance, considering the fact she’s wearing the same disdainful smile she gave him when he left her at Cybertek.

(“This is such a bad idea,” Skye says mournfully. Grant ignores her. Markham, who’s hanging back but clearly on guard, eyes her assessingly.)

“I am here,” Jemma says, voice sugar sweet, “to tell you that we can be married again.”

Okay then.

“I wasn’t aware we ever stopped,” he says. Sure, she said a few things about their marriage being a sham when she found out he was Hydra, but Grant sure as hell never signed any divorce papers. Far as he’s concerned, they haven’t been not-married since before their wedding.

Her smile softens briefly into something fond, then sharpens right back up. “Of course you weren’t. Well, regardless, we are married once more.”

“Glad to hear it.” He takes a minute to look her over, cataloguing her slightly messy hair, lack of makeup, and tired eyes. She may not be hurt, but there’s obviously _something_ up. “You gonna tell me what prompted this?”

“Simple,” she says, although the way she’s tensed up kinda puts paid to her attempt to sound casual. “As loyalty counts for _nothing_ anymore, I see no reason why your terrible life choices should keep us from being happy together.”

Lost as he is, Grant can’t _not_ smile at that. She’s always so adorably blunt; it’s one of his favorite things about her.

“Jemma’s not a fan of Hydra,” he informs Markham, who cocks an eyebrow at him.

“Never would’ve guessed,” he deadpans.

Skye sighs loudly. “We were betrayed. _Again_.”

Oh, that’s gotta hurt. “Ouch.”

“Yeah.” Pouting, she slumps down further.

“So my betrayal’s old news, is that it?” Grant asks, looking down at Jemma.

Her mouth thins.

“These people saved our lives to gain our trust,” she says. “They lived and worked with us for _months_ , pretending to be our friends. And then they led an invading force into our base and called _us_ the traitors.” Her hands fist against his back, and then suddenly she’s pushing away from him to pace across the office. “All things Hydra did.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” he says. He crosses his arms, fighting the urge to grab her and drag her close again. “But—”

“And do you know,” she says over him, “how Coulson, in his infinite wisdom, has decided to deal with these traitors? How he wants to repay them for their treachery?”

It’s clearly a prompt; he can tell she’s got a whole speech planned out in her head, one that depends on him saying all the right lines at the right times. She probably practiced it the whole way here, getting herself more and more wound up the more she thought about this new betrayal.

God, he’s missed her.

“How?” he asks.

“With _negotiation_!” she snaps, gesturing wildly. “After all they’ve done, all of their—their _hypocrisy_ , he’s giving them the benefit of the doubt! Just because they have the nerve to still call themselves SHIELD agents!” Overcome by her anger, she actually stomps her foot. “Good agents _died_ because of them! Because we lacked resources that _they_ had in abundance, but held back out of baseless suspicion!”

Ah. Okay.

Grant sees what’s happening here.

It’s not really that she’s willing to move past the whole Hydra thing. It’s just that she’s angry and hurt—betrayed by these new friends and Coulson’s reaction both—and lashing out. The new wound’s fresh enough to hurt more than the old; she’s feeling spiteful and wants revenge, and how better to get it than by coming to him?

She mentioned an invading force, which probably means she and Skye had to flee their base, and either they’ve made contact with Coulson and chosen to come to Grant instead of meeting up with him…or they’ve _left_ Coulson after hearing the negotiation plan. Either way, it’s gonna be a hell of a blow to him.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he says again. She hasn’t picked the pacing back up—she’s just standing there, all but vibrating with fury—so he crosses the office to join her, to take her face in his hands and (when she doesn’t react badly to _that_ ) kiss her forehead. “What can I do?”

Jemma leans into him, sliding her arms under his jacket for another, closer hug, and Grant rubs her back, thinking about sending Coulson a gift basket.

“We don’t have anywhere to go,” she says, tone caught somewhere between miserable and offended. “And it’s not really safe to hang about a motel, waiting to be discovered. So if you wouldn’t mind…”

“Of course,” he says. “You know you’re always welcome wherever I am, Jem.” He looks at Skye in time to catch her making a face. “What about you?”

“What _about_ me?” she demands.

Jemma sighs into his chest.

“Were you planning on staying?” he asks patiently.

“So what if I am?” Skye scowls at him. “If you think you can keep Jemma and kick me out—”

“No one’s getting kicked out,” he interrupts. “I’m just curious. You’re obviously not happy to be here; I wouldn’t think you’d _want_ to stay.”

“Well, I do,” she says—lies, really. It’s written all over her face that she’d rather be anywhere else. “So there.”

“And if I asked why?”

“None of your business,” she says, looking pointedly away.

“And if I asked _nicely_?” he presses.

“None. Of your. Business.”

“What if—”

“Grant,” Jemma says, pulling back to slap his chest. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” he asks innocently, frowning down at her. “I’m just—”

“Just deliberately provoking Skye because it amuses you,” she chides, and hits him again. “So stop it.”

Grant can’t help grinning. Her tone is half amused and all fond, the same not-really-scolding she’s given him a hundred times over the course of their relationship. He was starting to think he’d never hear it again.

And, bonus, she’s calming down. Anger’s a great look on her, but he’s always preferred her happy—and if he can get her thinking about things _other_ than betrayal, all to the better.

“Okay, okay,” he says, and lifts his chin at Markham—who’s been watching all of this with a kind of quiet fascination, like a zoologist studying animals in their natural habitat. If it were anyone but Markham, the whole strike team would know about this before dinner. (As it is, Grant figures it’ll stay quiet until Hicks or Aldridge’s nosiness gets the better of them and they check the security footage…so lunchtime tomorrow, probably.) “Tell Evie to find Skye a room, would you?”

“Yes, sir,” Markham says, then flicks his eyes to Jemma and back.

Right.

“Do you want a separate room?” Grant asks her. “It’s okay if you’re not comfortable sharing mine right now.”

(That’s a lie. It’s not even a little okay. But either way, he’s not gonna push her. If she wants her own room, she’ll get her own room.)

For a second, Jemma hesitates, and he steels himself not to react to the rejection he assumes is coming. Then her eyes harden, her mouth firms, and she lifts her chin.

“That won’t be necessary,” she says, back to that sugar-sweet tone. “I’d be happy to share with you again.”

Sure she would.

“Great.” He hugs her close one last time, bends to kiss her hair, and then—with extreme regret—lets go of her. “You guys look pretty rough. You want something to eat?” He considers Jemma’s drawn face. “Maybe a nap?”

Jemma and Skye exchange looks.

“A nap would be lovely,” Jemma says evenly. “We drove all night to get here.”

“Point me to the snacks,” Skye says, bouncing to her feet. “You probably have a whole apartment, right? Swanky penthouse?”

“Something like that,” he agrees.

“Great.” She shoots him a challenging smile. “Then I’ll check out your kitchen while Jemma naps. No need to find me a room just yet.”

So that’s her play. He wonders if she’s going to _accidentally_ pass out on his couch once she’s eaten.

Well, let her. Grant’s got things to do—pieces to put in motion—so he won’t be joining Jemma in her nap. Skye can have her little victory and think she’s thwarting him, keeping him from being alone with his wife.

There’ll be time for private catching up later. For now…

“Help yourself,” he says, making a show of clenching his jaw. It’ll make Skye that much more malleable if she believes she’s getting one over on him. But Skye’s not his focus, not really, so he throws his (fake) tension off just as quickly as he put it on. “That goes double for you, baby. And there’s some stuff in the bathroom if you wanna take a shower—I’ve got that shampoo you like.”

“Oh,” Jemma says softly. She swallows. “Thank you.”

He’s shaken her with that.

Good.

“You’re welcome,” he says, and—because he really can’t help himself—tugs her in to kiss her forehead again. “Get some sleep, okay?”

She nods, seemingly at a loss for words—but that’s the third time he’s kissed her, and she hasn’t protested yet. She’s told him plenty.

“Take them to my quarters,” Grant orders Markham…and then bites back a wince, because if he knows his people, they’ll get _way_ too much amusement out of him ordering two women taken to his room. Maybe he should scrub the tapes tonight. “Then find Aldridge and meet me in my office.”

“Yes, sir,” Markham agrees. Something about his face (even blanker than usual) makes Grant think he’s not the only one picturing Alpha Team’s reaction to that first order.

“Shut up,” Grant adds.

A tiny smirk pulls at the corner of Markham’s mouth. “Sir.”

Giving up on him, Grant turns back to his wife. A little—okay, _very_ —belatedly, he realizes he’s rubbing his hands up and down her arms. That’s either really bad (he definitely should’ve noticed when he started doing it) or really good (she’s _letting him_ )…but at the end of the day, any time he’s touching Jemma is a win. He decides not to worry about it.

“There’s a phone on the bedside table,” he tells her. “Dial 1 if you need anything; it’ll connect you to my assistant.”

“ _Assistant_?” Skye echoes in disbelief.

“All right,” Jemma says, ignoring her. “Thank you.”

He nods and forces his hands to drop. There’ll be time for touching her later, he reminds himself. Right now, he needs to wrap this up, get to work taking advantage of the situation.

Before he can do more than step back, though, Jemma catches his sleeve.

“Really,” she says, stepping forward. “Thank you, Grant.”

His throat actually goes dry. She’s wearing that look again, the one that means she’s building herself up to something. His heart picks up a little bit of speed.

“I knew I could count on you,” she continues, taking another step. “That I can _always_ count on you.”

Then she grips his shirt in both hands, pulling him down and herself up, and kisses him. _Really_ kisses him.

Shock grinds Grant’s mind to a halt, but that’s okay; he’s never needed _thought_ to kiss Jemma. Kissing back is all instinct and reflex: he slides a hand into her hair, wraps an arm around her waist, pulls her up further—enjoys the taste and feel of her, the way she hums in approval, low in the back of her throat, as his tongue strokes against hers—

“ _Jemma_!”

Skye’s whine startles Jemma; she jerks back and Grant—reluctantly—lets her go. When he opens his eyes, the office lights seem harsher than before.

And Jemma, he sees, looks hunted.

That was a bad idea, for all that she started it. Too much, too soon. He’s dying to make a comment, ask for a repeat, tell her how much he’s missed her…but this isn’t the time.

The truth is, this whole thing—her being here at all—is exactly like that kiss. Her bitterness and hurt and anger have taken over her good sense, and spite is pushing her farther than she’d otherwise go. She’s lashing out at Coulson and the new traitors the only way she can: by drawing a direct line to Grant’s betrayal, pointing out that forgiving them is the same thing as forgiving _him_.

But sooner or later, the immediate sting of this new betrayal will wear off, and she’ll regret being here. She hasn’t moved past or accepted him being Hydra; every grudge she’s got against him is still there, just shoved to the side to make room for the new ones. Once she’s adjusted to what’s happened, she’ll remember the old grudges—remember that she’s angry at and doesn’t want anything to do with him.

She’ll want to leave.

“Get some sleep,” he says. He cups her face briefly and then, with great effort, turns away. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

Sooner or later, she’ll want to leave—and for all his faults, Grant’s not the kind of guy who’s going to keep his wife locked in his bedroom if she doesn’t wanna be there. Holding her prisoner will only make her hate him more; he doesn’t want that.

The only thing for it is to make sure that by the time she wants to leave, she _really_ doesn’t have anywhere to go.

Which means it’s time to deal with SHIELD once and for all.


End file.
